


Memories of the Feywild

by TeamHPForever



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 04:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14012349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamHPForever/pseuds/TeamHPForever
Summary: Percy remembers something else that happened in the Feywild.





	Memories of the Feywild

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to episode 64 for the first time this week and I had too many Vax/Percy emotions. This happened.

Percy stands looking out at Whitestone, the Sun Tree towering behind him, his friends around him. Anticipation crawls through his bones. He’s spent his whole life reading about the Feywild and dreaming about going there. The idea that he’s finally going to make that dream a reality is almost too much to hope for.

The first thing he notices—oddly enough—is that the sun is much lower in the sky than he thinks it should be. It’s only mid-morning, so why did the evening hours seem to be catching the sun? His clothes hang heavy off his form and he looks down. Every inch of his lower body is covered in a thick black slime. “What the hell happened here?” he shouts, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Did the spell not work?”

“Percy…” Vex’s face is clouded with concern. “We just returned from the Feywild.”

“What?” Percy’s eyes flicker among his companions. They all seem to be covered in the same substance and wearing matching expressions of worry. All, that is, except for Grog. The barbarian is sitting on the ground, poking at the goo on his arm with one large finger. “We haven’t left yet.”

“You don’t remember anything, do you, Percy?” Scanlan asks.

“Remember what?” Percy cranes his head as he takes in the city. A blue shimmer covers the sky above. He doesn’t remember that being there before. Apparently there’s a lot he doesn’t remember. “Aren’t we just leaving?”

“Oh Percy.” Keyleth’s voice is thick with sympathy. She shakes her head sadly as she turns to Vex. “Show him the bow.”

Vex holds up an intricate bow that Percy is certain he has never seen before. It’s as much a work of art as a weapon—deep green with natural leaf scales, making it look like the forest itself had grown it into being. It’s adorned with a golden-bronze metallic inlay at the handle and caps.

“We did go to the Feywild, didn’t we?” Percy racks his brain until his head hurts but there’s nothing there. No memory of anything that had occurred there. “Do all of you remember?”

“Remember what?” Grog looks up, eyes fixing on the bow in Vex’s hand. “Is that the bow?”

“Great.” Percy’s resists the urge to scowl. “It’s just me and Grog then.”

“It seems so.” Keyleth scratches her arm, the mysterious goo flaking off in patches that scatter across the ground. “Maybe Pike will be able to do something about it.”

“Let’s go see her,” Vex says, strapping Fenthras over her back and leading the way. Percy tugs his notebook from his bag and flips through it as he walks. It’s filled with notes and drawings, all in his own handwriting but none that he remembers writing. It seems they had quite the adventure—getting blinded by a nymph, allying with werebeasts, fighting with pixies, narrowly avoiding a mysterious old hag. If only he could remember any of it.

Keyleth falls back to his side and rests a hand on his shoulder. “We can always go back someday, you know,” she says. “When this is over, I’ll bring you over any time you want.”

“Thank you.” A smile forces its way onto Percy’s face. “I would appreciate that.”

Keyleth nods and hurries back to Vex’s side. Grog lumbers alongside, still muttering his confusion about why they’re going back when they’ve only just left. Vax trails after the lot of them, robes of the Raven Queen hanging stiffly across his shoulders with the weight of the drying muck.

Pike stands outside the temple of Pelor, leaning against a column and supervising the workers. She comes running when they approach arms out for a hug, and then slides to a halt when she sees their condition. “I’m sorry!” she says, squinting at them all. “I couldn’t seem to keep my projection in the Feywild. It was ever so disappointing.”

“We know you tried your best,” Scanlan says, grinning over at her with the widest smile any of them have seen in days.

“Are you all right?” Pike’s smile starts to falter. “Did you get the bow?”

“We got it.” Vex turns, the inlay sparkling in the evening sun. “We’re all okay. Percy and Grog seem to have been cursed by the Feywild. They don’t remember anything that happened while we were there.”

“Let me see what I can do about that.” Pike walks over to Grog, the barbarian leaning down so she can press her hand to his cheek.

“We went to the Feywild,” Grog shouts, startling the few workers and worshipers outside of the temple. “I almost got eaten by an alligator-plant-beast-thing. I defeated Saundor. I tried diplomacy with pixies.” He scowls, hand reaching for his warhammer. “Never trying that again.”

“It sounds like quite the adventure, Grog,” Pike says fondly. “I look forward to hearing all about it.” She turns, crossing the lawn to Percy. Her palm is cool as she presses it to his forehead.

Seven days' worth of memories slam into his head, knocking the wind out of him. Moments flicker past, too quickly for him to register details. Talking to grass. An obscene drawing over the mansion fireplace. Vex’s and Vax’s father. Stealing a hat. Vax in his full glory plunging into icy water. The six of them tethered together, crossing rivers. Killing pixies. Stepping into Singorn’s tree.

Percy gasps for breath as the spell finishes with him. Vax catches his eye over Pike’s shoulder. His eyes are wide with something—was that pain—before he turns away. A different memory rises up out of the deluge.

Vax in front of him, eyes filled with anger and want. Vax fisting his hands in his coat. Vax pressing their lips together. The taste of blood and sugar. The soft edge of longing beneath the shimmering adrenaline of a fight they could have lost. Vax pulling away only to tuck his face into the crook of Percy’s neck. Vax whispering, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” Percy responding, “I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

Percy opens his mouth to shout after him but by the time he convinces his tongue to work, the half-elf is already gone.

“Thank you, Pike,” Percy says. “Thank you.” He bolts away from the rest of Vox Machina, head craning in an attempt to spot Vax through the crowd. He’s nowhere to be seen. Cursing rogues under his breath, Percy starts to wander. He couldn’t have gotten far, couldn’t have left Whitestone. Probably.

Over an hour later, Percy finally spots him back at the Sun Tree, sitting in a shadow at the base. His legs are drawn up to his chest, hood pulled up around his face. He doesn’t move as Percy settles down on the grass next to him.

“You kissed me,” Percy says, pressing his thigh to Vax’s.

“It was a mistake.” Vax tugs a dagger from his belt, twirling it between his fingers by the hilt.

“Then walk away.” Percy waves his hand through the air in front of them. “If you truly want me to forget what happened, if you want to take it back, walk away and I will pretend it never happened. It will just be another fantasy of the Feywild.”

Vax stabs the dagger into the ground. The blade cuts through the dirt like butter, the hilt sparkling like some bizarre metallic flower. He doesn’t move.

“You told me that you’ve been wanting to kiss me for a long time,” Percy says. He starts to reach for Vax’s hand on the ground next to him but thinks better of it, resting it on the pommel of the dagger instead.

Vax pulls another dagger out of his belt. He throws it, unable to put the full force behind it with the tree in the way. Percy blinks and the dagger is back in Vax’s belt. “It isn’t easy to trust you, Percival.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t.” Percy looks over, watching the spires of Castle Whitestone towering over the rest of his city. “I don’t deserve it.”

Vax squints up at the magical barrier over their heads, solid and a shade lighter than the sky. “I won’t pretend to understand all of this magic,” he says. “All I know is that we could die at any moment. I don’t want to have any regrets.”

“We’re all going to have regrets, Vax.” Percy reaches over, brushes his fingers through the feathers along his hood. They glisten under his touch. “Some of us more than others.”

“My sister means everything to me.” Vax runs his fingers over the ends of the cloak. “You know that.”

“I know.” Percy’s heart aches with ever-present guilt. “I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her.”

“You mean a lot to me too. I just don’t know what to do with you, Percival.” Vax tugs his dagger out of the ground and tucks it back into his belt. He starts to push himself to his feet. Percy holds his breath, prepared to watch Vax walk away. He gasps as the rogue twists on his knees and straddles his lap. “Do you regret kissing me?”

“Never.” Percy keeps his palms flat on the ground, afraid Vax will run if he tries to catch him. “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“Why are you here?” Vax rests his hands on his thighs like he’s at ease, like this is a normal position for them to have serious conversations. Even so, Percy can read the tension in the lines of his mouth and tight hold of his shoulders.

“I wanted to see you,” Percy says honestly. He reaches up slowly, brushes Vax’s lank hair back behind his ear. Vax doesn’t move away as Percy sits up and presses a kiss into the corner of his mouth. It’s quick and chaste, more testing the waters than anything else. Percy doesn’t feel a dagger shoved into his thigh so he counts it as a win. “You shouldn’t trust me. Not now, maybe not ever, but if you want me, then I’m here.”

Vax’s hand presses into his chest. Percy’s heart races against it, demanding an answer. Vax’s eyes search Percy’s like he’s trying to find the truth in them. Percy lays it all bare, the feelings that he’s always had for the man currently sitting on his lap, the pain that he feels every day knowing that he’s hurt him and Vex.

“Don’t talk anymore,” Vax growls, like it’s an order, before he pushes into Percy’s space for a kiss. It’s angry and bruising, more of a fight than a dance. Percy groans as Vax tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. Seconds stretch into minutes until Percy loses track of time. Vax’s hands rest on his shoulders, holding him in place. Percy relaxes into it, just trying to keep up as Vax takes what he needs.

Vax licks into his mouth, tasting like woodsmoke and—oddly—chicken. The kiss softens, turning into something like an apology. Percy reaches out, tangling their tongues together. Vax shifts closer on his lap, their armor catching.

Gasps and muffled words drag the both of them out of their haze. Percy takes in the townspeople gathered around them, watching their nobility desperately kissing one of the heroes that destroyed the Briarwoods.

Vax’s lips are swollen, a flush rising over his cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about this,” he says, his voice on the husky side. Us hangs unspoken in the air.

“We don’t have to,” Percy says sincerely.

Vax nods, rising to his feet with sinuous grace. He doesn’t look at the gawkers as he turns away, striding across the lawn. Percy stands too quickly, swaying back against the Sun Tree, but he doesn’t give chase. Vax pauses on the outskirts of the courtyard, turning to look back over his shoulder. He doesn’t smile but his head cocks in a question. You coming?

Percy pushes off the tree, rushing to join him.


End file.
